


right and solid and good

by wangler



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Barebacking, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Polyamory, Porn, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 15:07:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1189695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wangler/pseuds/wangler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott doesn't need to interpret any signals to recognize the raw smell of sex. </p>
<p>Or the one where Scott and Stiles and Derek have sex and everything is nice and soft beards and giggles and blanket forts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	right and solid and good

Scott wakes from a deep sleep to thudding heart beats and deep grunts. He tumbles out of his bed on a wave of adrenaline. Fights don't happen often but when they do he needs to supervise them -- if not intervene. It's the weirdest aspect of living with most of his pack now that he's out of high school.

It's only when he opens Stiles' bedroom door that the scent hits him. He doesn't need to interpret any signals to recognize the raw smell of sex.

"Shit," Stiles says breathlessly, comically still and incredibly naked.

Derek gives Scott a withering look and manages to continue fucking Stiles in what can only be described as a surly way. At this angle, Scott can't see any penetration but the flush that stains Stiles' chest and the way his dick is heavy and hard in Derek's hand and the way his breath hitches wetly as Derek's hips snap forward are pretty explicit. Also there's that enormous bottle of lube on the bed.

"I thought…" Scott starts. His palm goes hot and sweaty against the doorknob. A curious mix of instincts root him in place -- his human side apologetic for harshing what appears to be good sex, and his wolf side possessive of his beta, and maybe both sides possessive of his best friend. "Yeah, I'll just --"

"Don't," Derek says, bracing Stiles against his chest. They're both on their knees on the soft carpet beside Stiles' bed. "Stay."

Scott wants to stay. He's hard and hot and it physically hurts to stand there not participating. But actual life is more complicated than the instinct to fool around with everyone in his pack simply because it feels right and solid and good and happy to do so.

It's never been easy to read Stiles. Even now, after years of connecting as alpha and emissary, Scott has trouble parsing out the conflicting signals that Stiles is giving. Want, anxiety, arousal -- and the bitter scent of embarrassment. Fucking chemosignals. They're not as helpful as they seem. Scott asks, instead of trying to do the Stiles-math, "Do you want me to stay?"

Unlike the wolves in the pack, it takes Stiles a while to get lost in the momentum of sex. And once his inhibitions are gone there's a rawness about him Scott has learned to be delicate with.

There's a long pause. Derek spends it sucking a hickie under Stiles' ear.

"If you hurry up and get over here," Stiles says in a burst of breath. "Because things are getting sticky that need to not be sticky if you know what I mean."

Derek buries a quiet laugh against Stiles' shoulder and the tension breaks like a wave of steam. Scott closes the door and shoves his sweatpants down. He meets Stiles in three quick steps, kissing Stiles' sweaty throat first, working up to kissing his mouth because no matter how often they mess around, the kissing still feels new and a little scary.

Maybe Stiles doesn't find it as new or scary. He takes Scott by the back of his neck, grip strong, and finds Scott's mouth with a sure, hot kiss. It's so good Scott wonders how they loved each other for so long without figuring out that kissing was fun.

"Scott -- Scott -- Scott," Stiles says, excited and shivering against Scott's mouth. Whatever misgivings he had at first are definitely gone, because he sounds exactly like he does every time he thinks he has the best idea ever. "You should -- you should --"

Scott doesn't have to ask what he means. Stiles is already doing his best to manhandle Scott toward his dick.

With Derek continuing to fuck Stiles, the sloppy blowjob is not the most graceful thing Scott's ever done, but it works. It works really well by the the sound of Stiles' thready, whined breaths. Scott gets low, cranes and bends and holds onto Stiles' hip and thigh as he lets Stiles' dick fuck into his mouth with the jerky rhythm of Derek's thrusts.

Derek goes still when he comes, one arm gripping Stiles convulsively while the other juts out to take Scott by the hair. Scott has Stiles deep and chokes, but it's not a bad feeling. It's mostly difficult to keep his teeth out of the way when he starts to laugh over the way Stiles gets breathless, bright-happy giggles in the middle of sex like he thinks every single thing about dicks is funny.

"You're an idiot," Derek says fondly, easing Stiles onto his back so Scott can straddle Stiles' hips.

"I still think it's pheromones," Stiles says, dazed and craning his neck to watch Derek lube Scott up. "I have a theory about it. Werewolves. Sex mojo. Mm, hurry up."

"Yeah Derek, he's not going to hurt me," Scott says, pretty sure Derek just likes fingering him.

"Fine," Derek says, sounding unconvincingly grumpy. He makes a great show of wiping the lube off his hand and flopping onto his side like he's done with both of them, but his fingers immediately sink into Stiles' hair, just twisting and stroking. And his eyes are on Scott, his gaze so intense Scott feels the way he used to years ago, when he spent an embarrassing amount of time hoping Derek thought he was doing the werewolf thing right.

Scott only worries about the whole is he doing this sex right thing for about two seconds. Cause after that all he can think about is how fucking big and good Stiles feels in him. He rides down hard, fast, getting as much as he can out of it because Stiles is close, rigid in him and panting hard like he's been running. Stiles' body tenses up like he's trying to hold it in, his breath caught in a big gulp.

"Oh fuck," Stiles says on a gusty exhale, "Scott, Scott," and then he's coming with a bruise-tight grip at Scott's hips.

Stiles has an entirely accurate reputation for being completely useless after sex. Orgasms reduce him a warm blob capable of nothing but semi-coherent cuddling. Derek pulls the sheets off Stiles' bed and haphazardly arranges them over Stiles' sweat-slick, sex-blissed form before he gives Scott a hand up to stand.

("Dude, Derek's scary good at sucking dick," Stiles had told him once. At the time, it hadn't seemed like an actual possibility but yes. It's the truth.)

Derek blows Scott like it's an olympic sport. Scott feels himself go faraway and floaty, high on the sensation of a firm, confident blowie -- and the deeper, heady satisfaction of being attended to by his beta.

Scott doesn't know where to put his hands because it's still Derek. It's not like he's going to pet him or stroke his face. (Even if Stiles spends a gross amount of time assuring him that Derek's beard is really soft.)

A hoarse bark catches in Scott's throat when he feels his orgasm build. He's never gotten used to the idea of anyone actually wanting to swallow and his hips jerk away reflexively. But Derek holds him there, applies gentle pressure with his tongue and swallows and licks like he's lapping up honey.

"That right there is never getting old," Stiles mumbles from his nest of sheets beside them.

"Shut up, Stiles," Derek says, shifting a fold in the sheets so it covers Stiles' eyes.

Scott lets his knees give out the way they've been threatening to, and drops an elbow gently into the general vicinity of Stiles' ticklish ribs. Stiles flails in retaliation and somehow that turns into kissing again. The sleepy, lazy kind that Scott likes the best.

"I'm taking the bed," Derek says, his eyeroll actually audible.

But he only moves to curl against Scott's back, and in a few minutes he's snoring softly at Scott's shoulder and Stiles is sleeping too, his nose nudged against Scott's. Scott has work in two hours and he should get up and go back to his bedroom, but he's too satisfied to move, so he doesn't.


End file.
